Old, Ancient and Prehistoric
by lilgenious
Summary: "If seventeen is old then what is your father... or Gaius?" Arthur paused to consider the question for a few moments before answering. "Ancient, prehistoric if we count Gaius."


_AN: This story was written for a challenge that was for Camelot_Land on livejournal a year ago. It is one of the few stories I wish to save from my AO3 account, and as it has nowhere else to go for the time being, I have chosen to upload it here to this site._

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Merlin had discovered not too long after he had become Arthur's manservant, that the prince had a strange phobia of birthdays. Especially if said birthday was his own that they were celebrating.

"I don't want to go down there," Arthur said, his jaw set in a stubborn line. "I don't have to go down there, so I am not doing so."

Merlin nearly rolled his eyes but held back from doing so. "It's your birthday celebration. You have to be down there, Arthur. Everybody is expecting you to be there, and besides you have to do a speech."

Arthur looked as though he wanted to hit Merlin over the head with the book that Guinevere had snuck in for him as a birthday present. It was one of the new books written by a controversial author who called himself Anselm. It was an author that Merlin was familiar with, having enjoyed the numerous books that he could get his hands on before Uther had them banned for reasons that even Arthur didn't understand.

"You wouldn't understand the reason for why I don't want to go down to the feast," Arthur said softly. He stroked the book's spine and looked at the title of the book written in gold lettering admiringly. He set the book down on the table before him, looked around the room for a moment before he picked up the book from its current location and stuffed it into the bookshelf.

"I wouldn't put that there," Merlin said to him. "Don't you remember what happened the last time your father caught sight of a book written by Anselm in that shelf?"

Arthur winced as if he had been burned. "Don't remind me of that day, Merlin."

"He nearly burnt the bookshelf, didn't he?" Merlin asked conversationally. "I am sure that there are still scorch marks there on the floor if you look really hard."

Arthur grabbed the book out of the bookshelf and looked around for a place to conceal the book. Merlin sighed and pointed towards the bed.

"There is a loose floorboard underneath your bed."

Arthur grinned and walked around the side of the bed and dropped to his knees. "Thanks Merlin."

"Once you're done hiding prohibited pieces of work under your bed, we'll get you ready for the feast tonight."

Arthur's head hit the underside of the bed hard. When he re-emerged on the other side, his face had turned beet red and he was rubbing the top of his head with his hand.

"What?"

Merlin nearly rolled his eyes but stopped himself before he did so. "You are going down to that feast tonight."

Arthur stood up on his feet and looked mutinous. "I think I am the one who hands out orders, Merlin. I told you that I am not going down there tonight."

"And what am I to say to your father when he comes up to demand why you aren't down there?"

"Say that I am sick and that I am nearly on my deathbed."

"You can't be on your deathbed," Merlin argued. "You were completely healthy this morning when your father saw you!"

"Tell that to the plague victims who were doing well hours before they got sick with plague."

Merlin really did roll his eyes this time. "Gaius told me that there is a long period where somebody comes into contact with plague before they show symptoms."

Arthur gave him a look. "My father doesn't know that."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Merlin said with amusement in his voice. "Your father was on the battlefield a lot when plague struck his army. Gaius was the one who told him that plague has a period of two to six days before symptoms arrive."

Arthur kicked one of the posts at the end of his bed and silently cursed. Merlin was sure he heard "stubborn, annoying manservant" and "stupid court physicians" somewhere in between the first curse and the last one.

"You're scared about something, aren't you?" Merlin asked him.

"Scared about what?"

"I don't know what you are scared of, but I know that it is something."

"You're not making any sense!"

For a moment the two of them glared at each other. Merlin finally held out the red dress coat with a stern look on his face. Arthur scowled.

"You don't understand anything," Arthur said finally.

"Are you nervous for your speech?"

After a few moments of silence, Arthur finally moved around the bed and approached Merlin. He grabbed the red dress coat, and turned around.

"I am turning seventeen."

"I don't see what the problem is. There are a lot of people who turn seventeen."

"I am getting old," Arthur complained.

Merlin tried not to laugh but couldn't keep his face straight. He caught Arthur's eyes and instead busied himself with a spot of imaginary dust on one of the bed posts.

"Out with it," Arthur said sounding annoyed.

"If seventeen is old, what is your father or Gaius?"

Merlin watched as Arthur pulled a face.

"Ancient," he said with a small laugh. "Prehistoric if we are counting Gaius."


End file.
